⌜Yes, Your Grace. I will serve the young lady with the utmost dedication.⌟

⌜Dedication, of course, is expected. But there’s… something else I need you to do. Cecilia absolutely despises her husband.⌟

⌜Well, as time passes, her feelings may soften…⌟

⌜No, that’s not the point. Your job is to make sure Cecilia doesn’t grow close to the Lord of Lagos. There’s no benefit in her forming any attachment to him. When she returns, she needs to be able to forget everything. It’s for Cecilia’s own good.⌟

 

Grand Duke Jericho never provided clear explanations.

He always spoke in vague terms, but Benjamine understood perfectly.

 

⌜Watch over Cecilia. Prevent her from getting close to the Lord of Lagos. Prove your worth by carrying out this task.⌟

 

And if she failed?

Benjamine swallowed hard.

The grand duke would discard a tool that had outlived its usefulness.

 

❖ ❖ ❖

 

As soon as Russell entered the sitting room, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

‘It’s been so long.’

When he was young, he had frequented this room as if it were his own.

He had often insisted on sleeping here with his mother, only to be scolded and sent back to his room by his father.

After his mother passed, the room no longer held the warmth or gentle fragrance it once did.

The more he visited, the more he felt her absence.

Eventually, he stopped coming altogether.

To him, the room was a precious space of memories, but he let go of his attachment to it.

He couldn’t afford to live in the past. He was too busy enduring the present and preparing for tomorrow.

So, when Hoffman suggested repurposing this room as Cecilia’s bedroom, Russell had agreed without hesitation.

But now, stepping into the room after so long, he felt warmth and a subtle fragrance, much like when his mother had been alive.

A fragrance.

He couldn’t remember the last time he noticed any sort of fragrance in Lagos Castle.

Yet, unlike his childhood memories, this scent was sweet.

He took a quiet, steadying breath.

Cecilia picked up the vest from a small table and handed it to him.

“I heard this is a precious piece of armor.”

Russell looked down at the vest but didn’t reach for it.

Once he’d take it, he’d have no excuse to stay.

“How do you like the new furniture?”

“It’s alright.”

Of course.

Her answer was exactly what he had anticipated.

Would he ever hear words like ‘wonderful’ or ‘I love it’ from her?

He hoped that someday, he might.

As she extended the vest again, urging him silently, he finally accepted it.

No plausible excuse to linger came to mind.

“That drink.”

Her change of topic caught him by surprise, and he welcomed it.

“If you liked it, I’ll have a few bottles set aside for you.”

“Oh…”

For a moment, Cecilia was tempted.

Perhaps drinking the Sunset Wine would keep her nightmares at bay.

‘No.’

She remembered how much she had struggled to overcome her reliance on alcohol in her past life.

The best choice was to avoid it altogether.

“I don’t drink for enjoyment, so it’s fine. But are you planning to sell it?”

“I’m not sure. For now, I have no plans to.”

“It might sell better than you expect.”

“If it does, that could be a problem. I already have enough responsibilities without adding the role of a vintner.”

“That caravan leader doesn’t seem like he’ll let it go easily.”

“That’s exactly my concern. I owe him a lot of favors. If we decide to sell it, we’d have to agree not to increase production.”

“If production isn’t increased, how much could you sell annually?”

“Hmm… About thirty-five bottles a year, perhaps?”

‘Ah, that’s exactly the right amount.’

In her past life, Cecilia recalled that the market typically saw thirty bottles of Sunset Wine annually.

The remaining five bottles were likely reserved by the Ewen Guild for exclusive gifts to special clients, bringing the total to thirty-five.

He might not plan to sell it now, but eventually, ‘Sunset Wine’ would hit the market.

And it seemed that he had already agreed with the Ewen Guild not to expand production.

The market price of Sunset Wine was five gold coins per bottle.

Even at thirty-five bottles a year, the income wasn’t staggering.

But the influence the Sunset Wine wielded among high-ranking nobles far surpassed its direct monetary value.

Lagos Castle might see less than a hundred gold coins annually from the sales, while the Ewen Guild would reap all the other benefits.

To Cecilia, the agreement seemed unfair.

She wanted to offer Russell some helpful advice without revealing her knowledge of the future.

“What I’m about to say is a fact and must remain a secret.”

Her expression grew serious, and Russell felt himself tensing in response.